The Rise of Hela
by Hidden-Monster
Summary: "Nothing ails the Queen of the Dead, Tyr. Just time, passing at a rate she finds slovenly." Hela details her origins.
1. Chapter 1

Her towering figure stood bare, save for the familiar green garment wrapped around her neck. Much of it he had seen before, but the missing pieces did add a great deal to her overall beauty. Dark nipples, the same shade of her lips, decorated each modest breast. A small trail of black hair covered the pale mount centered over broad hips. A contradiction of gaunt features compiled over an otherwise womanly body. An image as far removed from anything associated with death, as far as he was concerned.

"This must remain," she made mention, referring to the piece of fabric hanging down her back.

"Fine," Tyr responded. "And I think the same rule should apply to this."

He held up his left hand then. Or rather the gold plated cup which covered the stump of what remained of said extremity. This earned a rare smile from Hela. Her low voice agreed, but suggested that all his other articles should be discarded. Tyr obeyed his Queen.

Living under a female monarch was still fairly new to him, just as the company of a strong women was, but he was growing to enjoy it. She initially took the lead at in their interactions, holding his body in place while her hands delved over her territory. But once that task was completed to her satisfaction, she did relinquish her total control.

There was no resistance on her part while Tyr assumed his usual domination. Rather she moved herself in rhythm to his actions. Gradually picking up speed, as she assumed command once again. Her overall strength dwarfed his own, but she was kind to hide this fact. Gentle, she must had been treating him, Tyr privately mused in the moments that followed. He, the God of War, a dainty maiden in the arms of the Queen of Niflheim.

"You seemed troubled," she spoke to him, breaking the silence maintained during their intimacy. "I trust I am not the cause, so I will assume something of less importance has entered your thoughts. Something I shall have to fix in a timely manner if it interferes with what I desire."

"You needn't, my Queen. I am merely at fault to properly display my gracious response."

Hela stared at him in silence, so he continued with words meant to be withheld. "It has been many ages since I've felt the pleasure found in your bed…your body."

Perhaps she smirked slightly, but her tone was not mocking when she responded that these things of hers would be freely shared if he desired such. However, already that body in question had risen off of the bed. Patiently, Tyr watched her move about the spacious room they occupied, observing the outside through narrow slits in the stone walls. After a few moments of observation, she spoke.

"I do not sleep. I rarely have use for a bed outside of decoration or a place to lounge. This one shall be yours and you may rest now if you desire."

Tyr was bothered when she did this, switching to speaking in her flat, unemotional manner. Not to mention, offended that she thought he would tire so easy. "You think I would rest while you patrol your kingdom? What manner of general would that make me? And what type of man to allow a lover to contend with their own company?"

"Do not treat me like that manner of women, Tyr, and I will not expect you to carry on a role you were not meant to play."

"You did sleep once, though, did you not?"

"You are sure of that?" Hela challenged.

"Yes. I don't know what to believe of the legends of your origins, but I feel you must have been alive at some point before. Why else would you go on longing for such that exist outside of your realm unless you knew of these things once?"

She moved to the nearest seat of her chambers, a green silk lined chaise, where she reclined and modestly arranged the loose cloak to cover her privates. Speaking to the solid floor beneath her feet, she began.

"Once.."


	2. Chapter 2

"Once there was time before the endless lands gained names from the species who dwelled there. No Gods or beings existed, at least none who would make their presence known. Then, I knew freedom, but was still caged by the knowledge of what was to come. Most of my days and nights were spent plotting and rehearsing for the role I was designed for. Then finally, I spotted the first living creature who dared to crawl up a blade of grass and venture out of its safely of the ground dirt. I knew then it would not be long before the ones who would call themselves Gods would come into existence; and finally the endless cycle of births, battles and tragedies would begin its course.

In the very beginning, they were truly immortals. But then so were the towering trees, which they tore down to build their homes and weapons. Death would not come to these beings, but they would find a way to come to her nonetheless. Tranquility induced boredom in these creatures and they soon begun finding excuse for battles or duels. Overtime their bodies started to dwindle and fall apart after the many injuries and blood lost. And occasionally a younger warrior's life would be cut off at the root for the sake of honor.

Afterwards, the lifeless forms would begin to rot and decay, so the ones close to the unfortunate would often choose to burn or bury what remained. But their spirits lingered behind. Nearly invisible to the naked eye, angry and resentful of their lost flesh.

More than a few would seek out to possess ones who could still cast a shadow upon the ground. The worse would turn into something even worse. From these actions, the Gods decreed that the souls had to reside within a location isolated from the living. And swiftly, demons and gods alike, craving the power of ruling over the dead, each took to claiming a territory of their own.

I was considered neither demon or god then. I merely existed, as surely as the frozen ice across the plains had always been so. But I was powerful, and more importantly, feared by all who crossed my path. In the beginning, I did not rule the dismal land of Niffleheim, but simply dwelled within it, preventing any other living being from entering. It was in this way that ultimately I gained my kingdom, my title, my name. And for a brief time, I was content. Purpose had entered my life. But purpose without desire can only function as a dying flame.

Traveling over the various worlds, I sought out the sick, the wounded or those who had grown weary of their existence. Answering the pleas, I offered them relief from their own suffering. To the early inhabitants of Midgard, I extended similar courtesies, viewing them as no less important then the gods. But to the reigning All-Father, Buri, this was considered inappropriate.

And as his title was passed from son to son, further steps were taken to limit the potential of my realm. Bor commanded that mortal humans of Midgard were to be forbidden from my influence. And after the coming of Idunn's golden apples, gods no longer contended with the perils of old age. Eventually, under the rule of Odin, it would come to pass that he souls of the warriors who had perished in battle were now theirs to keep within Valhalla.

I was understandably outraged by these actions. The All-Father of Asgard already had rule over the living of the nine realms. To take the most powerful spirits of the dead gods, while leaving me the crumbs was incredibly disgraceful on his part and I did not hesitate to inform him of this fact on many occasions.

Mayhap I made a mistake by doing this publicly, instead of in private. A strike to the ego of a male is often treated more hostility than most lethal blows.

Odin would cursed at me. That I was accustomed to, for am I not considered an accursed goddess? But he would not limit his words there. Often he would continue his slander with a series of vulgar insults. Including but not limited to claims that I stole babies in the night, lay with the corpses of livestock and that my genitalia was home to maggots."

Hela paused then to give a slightly uncharacteristic chuckle, looking positively girlish in the process as she particularly covered his mouth with one hand.

Tyr, himself not a great broadcaster of emotions, took a secret delight in watching her in this relaxed manner. But he could only enjoy such a moment for a few precious seconds before he had to speak up.

"This is Odin, you speak of? And not his father, Bor?"

"I'm not in the habit of misidentifying All-Fathers, despite the common traits they all share. This was the young Odin I speak of, but still very much the Odin Borson who would continue to rule Asgard for centuries to come. I will admit he eventually evolved into a fitting king. One even worthy of my respect. But during the early period of his rule, I carried a bitter hatred towards Odin."


End file.
